An Old Amulet
by LoveInChains
Summary: Once, I was a regular girl. Did regular things, went regular places. But for over a year, I was part of something mystical, something wonderful, something positively unbelievable. I was taken to somewhere seen only in works of fiction. Sent on an adventure full of orcs, dwarves, elves, goblins, and a single, humble, heroic, hobbit. And I had an old amulet to thank for it all.
1. Prologue

**An Old Amulet**

**Prologue**

* * *

><p>I had never done anything spectacular in all my life. Let's just get that out of the way. And yet, here I am writing a story about what my life was, before all of the adventure. See, my life would get interesting, for a time, and I'll get to that part soon enough. Just be patient for a bit. It had nothing to do with my presence at all, but somehow I got thrown into it. It's not my fault that I wasn't taught Khuzdul as a child. I had no idea what that even was. And yet because of that slight oversight, my life changed entirely. There was so much tragedy, so much danger and chaos. Sometimes it was too much for a girl like me to handle. Even so, I think I did pretty well despite how useless I was to start.<p>

For the record, my name is Rivera Bronwyn Stole. I was born to a pair of metalworkers. I was made fun of in primary school for my ridiculous name, and- well. That's about it. Most people just call me River, or Wynnie. I make jewelry in my spare time from the spare materials my parents bring home. I get average grades, have an ordinary boyfriend that doesn't even notice when I go on vacation for weeks at a time, and I spend most of my weekends baby-sitting my great-grandmother and stopping her from starting war with the neighbors.

I'm not special, as you can see. I can't sing a high note, can't woo the pants off of anyone I so choose, I'm not all that smart, and I'm pretty sure I put my pants on backwards this morning. I guess I'm pretty attractive, but I didn't do much with it. There isn't much I'm good at, there isn't much I'm even average at, and it's that one thing I was able to do that got me into trouble in the first place.

I was at my great-grandmother's one weekend, helping her around the house, pulling things from the basement, putting away things she'd managed to get out. Being more than 100 years old, I wasn't quite sure how she could even walk, let alone build a dining table complete with chairs during the days I didn't see her. Knowing what I know now, I've stopped questioning why that old bat was even alive, or how she could still swing a hammer like she could.

But I'd gone up into the attic for some old book she'd been looking for. I couldn't tell one from the next. They were all the same to me. Musty, faded, useless. I didn't see a point for them. Books. I preferred to work with my hands, rather than sit on them. Still, they granted my gran some comfort, and I didn't like her having to climb up all of those stairs, even though she was perfectly capable to do so.

Pilfering through boxes was one of my favorite pastimes when I stayed with gran. I'd found everything from battle axes to shields to whatever else you could think of in a perfect Camelot paradise. There was an old helmet, much too small for me, made me wonder who it was for. I really did hope that gran wasn't enslaving kids to form her own little army. And yet I wouldn't put it past her. Crazy old loon.

About a dozen or so boxes later, and I wasn't any closer to finding whatever gran was looking for. I'd forgotten by that point. So I was searching for much more interesting stuff that I knew I was bound to find. I'd actually managed to find a chest full of gold doubloons, of all things. Still, I wasn't surprised. The rubies, the diamonds, I'd seen enough of it as it was. My grandmother mined it every single day. That didn't stop me from pocketing a couple of them. Gran wouldn't miss them. Probably. I'd seen her pocket the neighbor's silverware once. Twice. At least twelve times.

And yet there was this amulet that caught my eye in the horde I was presented with. I looked over the gold without a second thought. It was silver, engraved with some silly writing that I couldn't quite read, it being chicken scratch. It really- spoke to me. In this weird way gems and precious metals always spoke to the women in our family. We were a bunch of gold diggers. I couldn't argue that. I might've been bit of one myself.

So I wore the amulet. Tucked it underneath my shirt and continued on with my life. Weeks, months, years, everything passed in a blur and nothing really changed. I graduated school and headed off to university without much of anything happening to cause me to wonder, to question what would happen next. I'd marry my idiotic boyfriend, more than likely, join some construction firm, and live out the rest of my days kicking my useless husband around. That was the ideal life for the tiny women I descended from.

Of course my mundane life wouldn't last. It was probably just after I got back from spring break when I was dropping my purse down on my bed and I suddenly found myself on a dirt country road. No warning, nothing at all. There wasn't a flash of white light, I didn't pass out, no angels coming to greet me to tell me my time had come. I was simply in one place, and then suddenly in another. A place quite different from what I was used to.

Green grass all around, fresh clean air, clear blue skies above me. Nothing like the cities I've lived in. Nothing to see aside from a bit of woods to my left and a wide valley to my right, and a path that continued on into the distance. I spun around, entirely confused. I looked up, I looked down, I looked- back down. I was naked. Completely and utterly bare. Nothing but that amulet dangling around my neck. I made sure no one was around and I fled for the woods, squatting behind a bush, and hoping to high heaven that no one would see me in such a state.

Knowing that I probably would not be found for some time, I gripped my amulet tight in my hand, always finding comfort in silver and gold, and I waited. There was nothing else for me to do since I had no clothes. Just a minute before all this nakedness I was getting back from my Biology lecture, tired and spent from the long day and ready for a well-deserved nap. Not whatever the hell was happening on that damned dirt road!

Rubbing my thumb over the inscription on the back of the amulet, I wish I'd known how to read the script back in the day. Instead I wrote it off as illegible dribble. I can speak, write, and read the language now, so I'll tell you what the inscription read.

_A trick of magic and here we lay  
><em>_No hope to return, ne'er again to be seen  
><em>_Yet with this amulet, if the King's in need  
>If bearing the blood, we creatures of clay<br>__The wearer shall return, til Durin's Day._


	2. Chapter I

**An Old Amulet**

**Chapter One**

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, miss? May I ask what it is you are doing back there?"<p>

The sudden sound startled me, being surrounded by nothing but the light chirps of songbirds and the sounds of squirrels playing in the trees. I almost thought I wouldn't run into anyone on that blasted road. Forced to remain naked and afraid until the end of my days. Which could have easily been that night if I was left in my current state. But my savior appeared before me, well, behind me, and he seemed to be a man by the low timber of his voice. I couldn't tell much more from my position since I didn't want to move and grant him a sight he wasn't expecting, nor one I was willing to give him. I had no choice but to stay put. Like I had been for what felt like hours.

I'd been trying to figure where I was as I sat there. Hoping to find something familiar about the vast green in front of me. Sadly, I'd lived in the middle of large cities for the majority of my life. The entirety, really. I hadn't seen anything close to the grandness of my surroundings aside from pictures on the internet or paintings I'd passed. Nothing in my memory compared. Which just meant I was more than hopelessly lost. I was doomed.

"Miss?" The stranger asked, edging closer to my spot. "Are you alright?"

"Sorry, sorry!" I apologized rather thoroughly, realizing I hadn't responded, waving my hands with a bit of a hysterical laugh. "If you wouldn't mind staying over there, that'd be really fantastic, I'm not in a good state at the moment."

He stopped moving, standing still but continuing on the conversation. "Are you injured? Lost? You're speaking in tongues, lass."

"I'm sorry, I'm out of sorts. I am lost, yes. As for injured, I don't think so." I lamented, giving my naked form another once over. I didn't ache anywhere but you couldn't be sure until you looked. "Sorry to ask this all of a sudden, but you wouldn't happen to have a pair of trousers on you, would you?"

"Why yes, I do. They're quite comfortable. Nice and warm, thank you for asking." He replied happily, clearly meaning the ones he was currently wearing. Which did not help me in the slightest.

I sighed, shaking my long brown hair back and forth, only just a bit more than slightly exasperated. "You wouldn't happen to have an _extra_ pair of trousers? I seem to have misplaced mine. As well as the rest of my clothes."

He didn't respond right away, but shifted slightly, perhaps a bit uncomfortable. "Lass, you wouldn't happen to be-"

"Am I bare as the moment I came into this world? Why yes. Yes I am." I interrupted with a thoroughly dry tone. "And quite cold, now that I'm thinking about it. Do you have anything to spare? Trousers, a blanket, gloves, a handkerchief? Anything will do."

"Here, lass." He said, throwing a large piece of cloth over the bush and landing on me rather spectacularly. It wasn't just cloth, it was a nice thick cloak that went all the way down to my toes. And it looked absolutely wonderful. Warm, thick, perfect for fending off the cold air.

I laughed happily, glad to put my nakedness behind me. "Thank you, thank you sir." Putting the cloak on and tying it tightly around my neck, I made sure every bit of me was covered before I stood and faced the man. "I'm eternally grateful."

"I'm not going to let you keep it." He stated very matter-of-factly, his mighty white beard bobbing a bit as he talked. "But, you're permitted to it until we get to the Shire and find you something more appropriate to wear. That _is_ where you're from, yes?"

I had no idea what a Shire was. Still, I didn't want to get abandoned, so I found myself saying, if not lying, "Yes, yes I am. I was out walking and got myself all turned around. I'm awful with directions. Always have been." Then I paused briefly. "What's your name, sir?"

He chuckled, the old man. "I, am Balin. At your service."

He bowed low with his words, and that's when I realized he wasn't all that much taller than me. And I was more than just a little short. Smallest girl in my year at school and smaller than anyone my age or older I'd known since. Apart from my gran. It was very refreshing, not tilting my head up to talk to the clouds just to have a pleasant conversation.

"Bronwyn." I returned, preferring my middle name to my first, bowing just as low and just as sincere as my savior did. "At _your_ service."

Balin nodded, gesturing broadly down the path. "Shall we move along now? I'm to be expected for supper and it's almost night."

"Of course, of course." I nodded, smiling all the while. "Can't have you late for your meal, now can we?"

The old fellow returned my look, his eyes crinkling in delight. He motioned for me to go ahead of him, or just to simply start walking. I nodded, taking a few steps and looking back over my shoulder, still trying to make sense of the whole situation. For some time, I thought I was hallucinating. Post-studying delirium. Something of the sort. But as time went on I just knew, I knew this wasn't a dream. I could never conjure something like this up. I wasn't an imaginative sort, not in the slightest. That only meant I had stepped into something truly... strange.


	3. Chapter II

**An Old Amulet**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

><p>Little did I know that I would be accompanying mister Balin to supper, and staying the whole night. He said that I might as well join him, since hobbits were always generous and his host wouldn't mind. After that I could head on home, he said. If I only knew how to get back there. He even mentioned I could more than likely find clothes there that fit me, me being so small. I didn't bring up the fact that I had no idea what a hobbit was, though it sounded familiar. Like something for a distant memory. And I was still too discombobulated to really argue, I just walked along with mister Balin, enjoying his company and talking the time away. He reminded me a bit of my gran, the way he spoke. It was pretty comforting. Distracted me from the fact that I magically appeared wherever it was I was at and had no idea if I'd be able to make it back home.<p>

Eventually, as we walked and talked and I expertly avoided any detailed conversation about myself, night fell and we came to our destination. It was only a few minutes walk, but one I cherished. Balin was good company, company I was glad to keep. We made our way to a top of a hill, atop of several littler hills, until we came to a stop outside of a wonderfully ornate door against a hillside. A door into a little hole. A hobbit hole that belonged to a Mr Baggins, apparently. Yet another familiar thing, like a little itch at the back of my mind. It would bother me for days. But as the door opened slowly, I pushed those thoughts aside and smiled graciously at the small man in front of us. A small man with pointed ears and tawny hair.

Balin bowed beside me, introducing himself. "Balin."

"Bronwyn." I said, bowing myself.

"At your service." We both offered, giving each other a bit of a smile as we stood up straight again.

"Good evening." Our host replied, looking a bit overwhelmed, for whatever reason.

Balin nodded, agreeing with him. "Yes, yes it is. Though I think it might rain later."

"Good evening to you too, Mr Baggins, I hope you don't mind me sticking around with Balin." I smiled, hoping that I'd be permitted to stay, not that he gave me any inclination whether or not I was allowed. So I just assumed I'd been given the green-light.

We stepped into the entryway, and I took a moment to observe my new surroundings. A hobbit hole. And by gracious, it was a lovely little home. When I heard "hole", I hadn't expected what I saw. I hadn't expected anything close to its splendor. A beautiful little hole, not dank, not dirty, not musty or smelly, not anything like any hole I had ever seen. I didn't even register what Balin was saying to Mr Baggins, I was too busy admiring the craftsmanship of that splendid little home. And I figured the less I spoke, the better. Because then it would be painstakingly obvious to everyone around that I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Still, I couldn't get enough of the woodwork. It was, in a word, breathtaking. Walls and ceiling, all in the shape of a tunnel, rounded perfectly, several rooms arranged logically and expertly, every inch decorated with something beautiful, every detail attended to, nothing was overlooked. An old home, but built to last. A home nestled wonderfully in a small hill. A hole, but not like a hole at all. A place to live for decades to come. A place I could only have dreamed of. A place I wanted to build with my own two hands.

"Oh, ha ha!" Balin laughed loudly, bringing me out of my stirrings, and advancing towards another man who I hadn't noticed before, cleaning out the inside of a biscuit jar in the kitchen. "Evening brother!"

"By my beard!" The man responded happily. "You are shorter and wider than last we met."

Figuring the two would continue on amicably, I turned to Mr Baggins and attempted to be a polite guest. "You have a wonderful home, Mr Baggins. Simply wonderful."

"Thank you very much…" He returned, though thoroughly distracted by Balin and his brother.

That's when the two took each other by the shoulders and smashed each other's foreheads together. That was only slightly startling. But they laughed, and I knew it was nothing to worry about. I think I recall my grandmother and gran doing the same thing once.

"Uh," our host started, "excuse me; sorry. I hate to interrupt, ah, but the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house…"

The two ignored Mr Baggins, making me wonder if we were all that welcome in his house, as I was told. Still, Balin turned towards us with a smile. "Bilbo, is it? Would you mind helping this young lass with finding something to wear?"

"Wh-what?" Bilbo asked, turning towards me confused. "Why-"

"I seemed to have lost all of my clothes while walking about, I'm naked as a wee babe under here." I whispered quietly, if not a bit deviously. Then I looked down and saw Mr Baggins's feet. They were quite hairy, and he wasn't wearing shoes. _Interesting_. When I looked back up again, he was looking back at me in shock.

His mouth fluttered open and shut. "Y-you mean- you're not- oh my."

"Yeah, it's a long story-"

He grabbed me by the hand suddenly and led me deep into his cozy hole, passing by several different rooms, and at least three pantries. That's when we came to a halt outside of one of his many rooms. He opened the door and gestured inside.

"Take whatever you need, there's plenty there, nothing silk and please don't touch my mother's dressing gowns. I need to get back to the others before they ransack the pantry." He said in a rush before running back from whence he came.

"Will do, Mr Baggins!" I called after him, catching a bit of a wave signaling that he at least heard me.

I chuckled quietly, appreciating the liveliness of my host. That's when I noticed that the entire room, quite simply, was a very large wardrobe. Clothes of every sort lined the walls, more clothes than I'd ever seen outside of Macy's. Whatever a hobbit was, it was an entirely curious creature. Stepping into the closet, I looked through the collections of shirts and pants, trying to find something that would probably fit me. Mr Baggins was slightly shorter than I am, but a bit wider. Meaning that with a belt, almost anything would be my size.

Realizing that I would probably be taking off that cloak and exposing myself to the world, I turned around and quietly shut the door. And then I quickly pulled a shirt off a hanger, and some pants out of a drawer, and I was set. The shirt was a bit Shakespearean, but everyone I'd met talked like they hopped straight out of Hamlet, so it was pretty fitting. And with that done, I walked back out with the cloak on my arm to see Bilbo attempting to lecture Balin and his brother, to which he was failing quite splendidly. They were not listening. Not in the slightest. They seemed to be discussing the state of a piece of cheese they found in the pantry. Deciding not to get in between them all, I moved to hang up Balin's cloak.

As I neared the door, the doorbell rang, and I decided to be a good guest and answer it, saving Mr Baggins from an even worse headache than he already had.

"I've got it, Mr Baggins, you rest easy a moment." I said in his direction before turning back to the door.

Taking the handle, I opened the door wide to see two more men, smaller than what I was accustomed to, still taller than me, but considerably younger than the others. One blonde, one brunette. And both looked a bit like Vikings. As did the others, but I digress.

"Fili." The blonde said with confidence, a devious smile teasing his lips.

"And Kili." The other said, a bit more determined and stern than the other.

"At your service." They both offered, bowing low and standing up straight again.

"At your service." I returned kindly.

The brunette smiled wide, almost like an excited puppy. "You must be Mrs Boggins!"

I laughed quietly. "No, no. Sorry, I'm a guest, just like yourself. You'll find Mr Baggins-"

"Nope, nope!" Bilbo interjected, appearing out of nowhere and grabbing hold of the door. "You can't come in, you've come to the wrong house."

He started to close the door, when Kili caught it and forced it back open again.

"What? Has it been cancelled?" He asked, that excited face quickly turning almost sad, or disappointed, mostly disappointed.

"No one told us." Fili stated, looking puzzled and just a bit bewildered.

Even more confused than Fili, was Bilbo himself. "Can-? No, nothing's been cancelled."

"Well that's a relief!" Kili exclaimed, becoming quite excited once more.

The two pushed their way in, knocking Bilbo back into my arms. I set him up right and Fili approached us, his arms full of- swords, it seemed. Knowing the people I'd find myself in the company of, they were swords. Most definitely.

"Careful with these, we just had 'em sharpened." He explained as he just tossed them into Bilbo's arms.

"Here, let me take a couple." I offered, plucking a few from the pile and moving them elsewhere. I'd handled enough weapons in my life and I wanted to make this whole gathering a bit easier for the poor Mr Baggins. The poor flustered hobbit. Whatever a hobbit was. He was a flustered one for sure.

Fili was still finding things in his boots and his belt to hand to Bilbo when Kili said, "It's nice, this place. Did you do it yourself?"

"Ah, no, it's been in the family for years- that's my mother's glory box can you please not do that?" Bilbo replied, somewhat stern. I turned to see what he was talking about. Kili was rather harshly cleaning the underside of his boot against the edge of some of Bilbo's furniture. Even I had to admit that was a bit rude. Though I'd seen my gran do worse when visiting friends. And even worse when visiting people she didn't like. She isn't allowed back there. Ever.

Then Balin's brother came in from the kitchen, patting Kili on the back. "Fili, Kili, c'mon, give us a hand."

"Mister Dwalin." He said affectionately, following Dwalin into where Balin already was, standing around a large table. Glad I finally learned his name.

"Let's shove this in the hallway." Balin instructed the others. "Otherwise we'll never get everyone in."

That just made me wonder how many more people were planning on showing up. I wasn't quite sure Bilbo was up to the task. He was just shuffling around with the bundle of swords still in his arms, completely unsure of how to go about the handful of strangers roaming about his home, doing as they please. And he definitely didn't know what to do with those swords that were forced on him.

"Ev-everyone?" Bilbo stuttered, clearly flummoxed. "How many more are there?"

"Why do I feel like you didn't arrange this little gathering?" I asked Mr Baggins, who was still looking to the kitchen in shock.

"I didn't! They just showed up without invite and they're practically-"

Then the doorbell rang again, interrupting his train of thought so I just grabbed the swords in Bilbo's hands without even asking to. Good thing I did, because he was about to simply drop them to the floor and on the floor they should not be.

"Oh no. No, no!" He exclaimed, fairly frazzled and more than a little bit irritated. "There's nobody home! Go away, and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is!" He ranted as he approached the door, my mind only had a brief moment to catch the fact that he called his company "dwarves". "I-i-if this is some clotterd's idea of a joke," he paused to laugh humorlessly, "I can only say, it's in very poor taste-"

At his last words I half expected him to explode from all of the frustration, but instead he yanked the door open and several people came tumbling in, one on top of the other. At least five of them, each one plumper and rounder than the next. I couldn't help but stifle a laugh into my sleeve. I had to admit, watching the small thing run around all flustered was a bit amusing.

The pile moaned and groaned as they tried to get off of each other, failing miserably. Only putting their elbows and knees into places that were probably less than desired. Then a very tall man leaned down and peered in, with a beard down to his knees and a pointed hat on top of his head. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was a wizard. But I knew they didn't exist. Though, there was such a thing as hobbits and I was pretty sure those didn't exist either. Wherever I was, it was nothing like where I came from, and I was coming to learn that real quick.

"Gandalf." Bilbo exasperated, seeming somewhat glad to see someone he recognized.

"Good evening, Mr Baggins." The old man offered, with a tip of his hat. "And who's this by your side?"

Bilbo looked at me, and then back at Gandalf. "Sh-she's not one of yours? I-I thought-"

"Bronwyn, sir. I ran into Balin along the way, seeing as I was a bit lost, he decided I should stay here for the night." I smiled, hoping that neither of them poked and prodded my story too much.

"It's a pleasure- hmm." The old man mused, scratching his chin and leaning his walking stick towards me. "That necklace, where did you get it?"

I was somewhat startled by the change in topic and the direct attention to the amulet around my neck. I didn't think it was all that obvious hanging around my neck. It was meek and silver and nothing to extravagent. Holding onto it, I swallowed past a lump in my throat. The old coot was making me nervous, speaking about things I wasn't so sure about myself. Just a simple necklace, is what I thought it was once upon a time. But I knew then that it wasn't. It was the only thing left on me when I suddenly appeared in 'Hobbiton'.

Getting back to what he said, I tried to speak but ended up coughing a bit. I apologised and continued. "It's an old family heirloom. Found it upstairs one day, dusty old thing. Mind if I take your hat?"

He mumbled a bit again, stepping over the pile up of men at his feet. "Thank you, my dear."

I took the hat from him as he took it off of his head, hanging it on a hat rack and moving to go elsewhere.

"My dear, could I have a word?" Gandalf asked, clearly not allowing me to avoid the subject. "It'll only take a moment, I assure you."

Another lump formed in my throat and I just couldn't muster past this one. So, facing the kitchen, I simply nodded, and wondered if for a moment I was going to be caught in the lies I'd spun and I'd be removed from the premises without a second thought. I hoped that wouldn't be the case, hobbits were supposed to be hospitable. But Gandalf was no hobbit. He was quite a large old man looking down at me kindly. And it was the kind look that swayed me. Reluctantly, I followed him into an unoccupied room, and expected the worst. Because I knew it was coming. Whether in that exact moment or not, the worst was yet to come.


	4. Chapter III

**An Old Amulet**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

><p>So I'd followed Gandalf into the drawing room half-heartedly, not quite sure what to expect. And we'd been sitting in almost absolute silence for a few minutes. I had no idea who he was, the old man, aside from the name I was given. But he seemed to be someone rather important by how the "dwarves" were respecting him over their own host. And he was carrying a big stick that I thought he'd smack me with it if I didn't go along with his notions. That's what my gran would do. But Gandalf was only sitting in a chair much too small for him by the fireplace, fiddling with a pipe. Not doing anything threatening at all.<p>

"So, you say that you're lost?" He said, coughing lightly, suddenly shattering the silence and I couldn't've been more thankful for it. "Where is it that you're from?"

Now I wasn't so thankful. I really didn't want to talk about myself and on top of that I felt like there was a second question somewhere in there, but I decided to answer almost truthfully. Or as truthfully as I could. "Over the river and through the woods a ways."

Gandalf narrowed his eyes at me slightly, speculating my every word. "Hmm…"

I watched him carefully as he snapped his fingers, producing a flame, and using it to light the tobacco in his pipe. I tried not to stare, hoping I'd missed a match in his hand or something of the sort. Perhaps a lighter. But I knew those probably did not exist in this world of wood and stone. I'd surmised by that point that technology wasn't really a thing in those parts.

My first impression of Gandalf was that of wizardry, and I was coming to find that along with hobbits, wizards were quite real. And that didn't set well with me at all. Not in the slightest.

"Did you know that smoking is bad for your health?" I brought up randomly, trying to fill the silence with something, not matter how trivial. Lest I started to freak out, thinking about all of the odd things around me. I needed sound, noise, distractions. I needed them bad.

"Is that so?" He asked, rather sincerely. Looking up at me, sucking on his pipe.

I nodded. "Yeah, there was a bunch of research done where I'm from. Excessive smoking can lead to lung issues later on in life. It makes your teeth yellow, bad breath, holes in your cheeks, it's pretty nasty. Doesn't stop people from doing it though-"

That's when I realized Gandalf's eyes had narrowed even farther and he was looking at me quizzically. I felt like I'd shot myself in the foot a bit.

"My dear, you have a very odd way of speaking." He stated, exhaling smoke

He wasn't really chipping away at my façade, but he was calling it into question, my identity. I didn't speak like him or the others. It was only a short time before he figured it all out and I was done for. And that clock was striking, singing the song of my demise.

I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my head and looking anywhere except for his piercing blue eyes. "Sorry, I'm not from around these parts."

"So you've said," he started, cool as a cucumber, "yet I've heard from the others that you've told them that you're from the Shire. I'm starting to wonder which part of your story is true, young Bronwyn." He paused, inhaling on his pipe once more.

Realizing that I couldn't go on for much longer, I exhaled loudly. "You and me both, old man."

"Old man?" Gandalf questioned, slightly brazen, taking a break from his smoking to lecture me a bit. "I do believe I deserve a bit more respect than this."

I shrugged, knowing he was probably right. "Sorry. You and me come from two different worlds. And I have no idea who you even are. Aside from Gandalf, probably a wizard. I'm just having a hard time believing that. Where I'm from wizards aren't really real. In fact, they aren't. They're only a part of Harry Potter. Wands and Dark Lords and what have you. Wizards are completely fictitious."

He seemed to be quite perplexed by what I was saying. And I was almost kicking myself for saying it. But it all just came out of me in one rush, I couldn't've stopped it. I was ranting, almost. Besides, it felt good to finally tell the truth. And Gandalf wasn't looking at me like I was crazy. That made me feel a tad better.

Huffing some more on his pipe, Gandalf nodded slowly. "Different worlds you say?"

"Well, I don't know for sure." I reiterated, sighing a bit. "I could tell you what happened to me and you could gauge that for yourself."

He gave me a small smile. "I think that would be quite wise."

"The problem is," I started, letting out a small chuckle, "I'm pretty sure by the time I'm done with my tale, you're going to think I'm a complete nutter."

"I promise to reserve judgment until you've finished your story." He promised, giving me that sincere smile of his.

I couldn't help but laugh a little, I didn't know if it was hysteria or what, but I was in a laughing mood. "Well, where to begin. The beginning's always a good place to start, I think. I'm mostly just talking to myself now, Lord. I've gone completely off my rocker. I'm just going to let it rip and hopefully you can keep up!

"My name's Bronwyn, I'm from Dublin. It's a really big city in Ireland, but I currently live in Bristol, England. Where I'm from, there's no such things as hobbits, or wizards, and when people say dwarves they mean people who've got a growth condition, not whoever's roaming around this little hobbit hole. There's no need for weapons like swords and stuff, and I don't think I've ever seen a green pasture in all of my life, to be perfectly honest.

"And we don't talk like you all do, we call that sort of way of speaking "Shakespeare", where I'm from. The whole world over speaks more like me, with varying languages and accents, but not- like you. Not anymore, anyways. We certainly don't live in holes, not anyone sane, at least. We don't wear cloaks, we don't carry swords- wait, I already mentioned that.

"But getting to how I got here! It's not a very long story. I literally just threw my bag down on my bed and I magically showed up here. Butt naked, naked as a wee babe, whatever. No clothes, nothing. Just this blasted amulet dangling around my neck and I already know you have suspicions about it, and I do too. I'd love to figure out what's up with it, and there's a bunch of chicken scratch transcribed on the back but I can't read it. It's jibberish. A bunch of lines, that's all I can make of it.

"I think that's all I've got to say." I paused, just to confirm that. "Yeah, I think that's it."

I inhaled deeply, and exhaled just as powerfully. Glad to finally have gotten all of that off of my chest. I leaned back in my chair, relaxing, knowing that I'd only probably have a minute more of it before someone came in and gave me the royal boot. I didn't care. I was more than likely just insane and I could check myself into a loony bin at my earliest convenience.

But, the boot never came. Gandalf was just looking at the ground, stroking his beard and still sucking persistently on his pipe, mumbling over and over again, "Very curious…"

Sitting up, I watched him carefully, wondering what he'd do next. And then he looked up at me with a hand extended.

"May I see your amulet?" He asked honestly.

I nodded, pulling it off from around my neck and laying it down gently in his wrinkled old hand. He rolled it over in his grasp, examining it and making several different sorts of indecisive noises. Several times he looked to the back, narrowing his eyes and making some very logical deductions, I was sure. A well to do man such as him, I'm sure he was cracking the case at breakneck speeds.

That's when he opened his mouth and I no idea what he was saying to me. It was complete and utter- I don't even know _what _it was, I just couldn't understand a single lick of it.

"What are you even saying?" I asked, looking at him in exasperation. I didn't want to listen anymore. It was just giving me a headache.

He still continued speaking in whatever language he'd switched to, but then he handed the amulet back to me and I put it on in one swift motion.

"Thanks, but what the hell were you saying? I didn't understand any of that." I explained, hoping he'd switch back to English already.

And he did, thankfully, or so I thought. "I was explaining to you what the inscription read." He said, stroking his beard a bit. "You're telling me that you did not understand me?"

I nodded. "Yeah, didn't you hear me saying that over and over again?"

"I heard you speaking in a tongue that I am not familiar with." He informed me, and shocked me.

"Same here!" I exclaimed, sitting up a bit straighter. "One second you were speaking perfect English, and the next you were speaking- whatever the hell that was!"

Quirking a brow at me, Gandalf seemed a bit confused. "English? I do not know what that is, my dear. I was speaking Westron, the same language that you're speaking at this very moment. And doing so rather splendidly."

"Westron?" I asked, becoming more bewildered by the moment. "I don't even know what that is!"

He raised a hand to me, instructing me to settle as I was about to leap out of my chair. "Please, give me a chance to tell you what the writing on the back of your amulet truly means. And then I can tell you my thoughts on your situation."

Relaxing a smidge, I nodded. "Please."

"'_A trick of magic and here we lay  
><em>_"No hope to return, ne'er again to be seen  
><em>_"Yet with this amulet, if the King's in need  
><em>_"If bearing the blood, we creatures of clay  
><em>_"The wearer shall return, til Durin's day._'"

And with that, he finished. Closing his eyes he exhaled some smoke he'd inhaled from before the telling of the oh-so mysterious inscription.

"Wow." I breathed, not understanding what any of that meant at all.

Gandalf bowed his head slightly, coughing into his cloak. "I do believe it's by pure accident that you're here, young Bronwyn. You were simply wearing this charm at the right moment, and you possessed the lineage that the magic required."

I couldn't help but snort at that. "Lineage? I'm the daughter of metalworkers, and my mom's the daughter of miners, and my grandma's the daughter of a smith and my gran. There's nothing special about us. Just a lot of dirt and metal."

"Perhaps, but your line does descend from this world, of that I'm most certain." He continued, quite sure of himself.

"And what line would that be?" I asked, deciding to humor the coot.

"The line of Durin." He said low, quiet, almost a whisper. "The same blood as the men that've come to the Shire in search of a hobbit. The blood of dwarves."

My jaw would've dropped, had the muscles in my neck not locked up. But my eyes widened, widened more than I thought physically possible. I knew I was short, very short, but this man was calling me a dwarf. And I was pretty sure I'd figured out what sort of dwarves everyone'd been talking about. Like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, like the other fairy-tales where dwarves were small little men, living in caves and under mountains, mining precious stones, coveting precious metals, and wielding axes and hammers into battle.

Like my family. Like my hammer swinging gran. With her swords and her shields and her helmets and her gold. It made- it made sense. I just couldn't admit it. That would mean I accepted wherever I was as a magical world with wizards and everything else I've already listed a dozen or so times. I didn't have the patience to go through all of them again.

"You're telling me that you think I'm a dwarf?" I asked, in utter disbelief once I found my voice again. Dwarves just simply did not exist. But I'd come to accept the existence of hobbits, mostly because I didn't really know what they were and there wasn't anything like them on Earth.

Gandalf nodded slowly, gauging my reaction. "Yes. That this amulet's magic performed accordingly, provides all the proof I require. Even if it's the smallest percentage, you belong to the House of Durin."

I closed my eyes, pressing my palms into my sockets, trying to physically get a grasp on what the hell was happening in my life. I was a college student, with a 3.8 GPA, I had a boyfriend for the past five years, I had a car, I had a life that was easy and carefree, no swords, no dwarves, no hobbits, no nothing. And now I was coming to realize that that life was all behind me. My new life was starting, and I was not prepared in the slightest.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review! xoxo, Momma Love<strong>


	5. Chapter IV

**An Old Amulet**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

><p>Getting back from my discussion with the old wizard, I ran through everything I had been instructed to remember. No telling the others the truth, they were not as open-minded as him, he said. If anything of them ask where it is I'm from, I'm to say that I'm from a land across the sea, where things are quite different. I could give them details, but nothing to do with the fact that I was one place one second and in this place the next. Do <em>not<em> take off the amulet, do not let the others see it. I'm simply to be a travelling woman. That much I thought I could handle. So coming back into the entryway, I was thrown back into the dwarven shuffle.

"Put that back." Bilbo ordered as Dwalin came in front of him with some sort of meat on a plate. "Put that back!" He continued as Óin, an older dwarf, went on as he pleased with more of the poor hobbit's food.

I wasn't really listening to Bilbo too much, I was far too busy trying to get out of everyone else's way. Twirling here, twirling there, ducking and rolling out of the fray several times.

"C'mon, give us a hand, lass." The dwarf known as Bofur requested of me, shoving a plate topped high with fish into my arms and pushing me towards the dining area. I just managed to get it onto the table and was turning to head back when Bombar, Bofur's brother, almost knocked me over with the three blocks of cheese he was hoisting.

"A tad excessive, isn't it?" Bilbo questioned from the doorway, adjusting his suspenders. "Have you got a cheese knife?"

"Cheese knife?" Bofur chuckled. "He eats it by the block."

I snorted at that while ducking out of the way of a couple of incoming chairs. I was actually getting the hang of maneuvering through the mess better than I expected. Even as someone tossed me several bowls, I didn't flinch. Looked like I was fitting in just nicely.

"No, no, that's Grandpa Mungo's chair!" Bilbo stated, reaching out to stop Glóin but falling just a bit short. Then he turned to Óin who was also bringing in a chair. "No, I'm sorry, you'll have to take that back please."

"I cannot hear whut your saying, lad." Óin informed him, motioning to his ear.

"It's antique, not for sitting on! Thank you!" Bilbo exclaimed, becoming more and more flustered by the second.

Balin came up behind me in that moment, patting me on the back. "Mind helping me set the table, lass?" He asked gently, motioning to the piles of plates piled high on the table.

"Of course." I nodded, making my way for them. "Anything to help."

"That is a book! Not a coaster!" I heard Bilbo cry from the other room.

While the young dwarf Ori cleaned the plates of dust and Gandalf set the silverware, an older dwarf Dori approached us with a tea tray.

"Put that map down, thank you!" Bilbo continued to try and chastise the dwarves from out of sight. The poor thing.

"Excuse me, Mr Gandalf, Miss Bronwyn," Dori started, causing me to turn around, "may I tempt either of you with a nice cup of chamomile tea?"

I smiled up at him, appreciating the gesture. "That would be lovely Dori, thank you!"

"Oh, no thank you, Dori." Gandalf said softly. "A little red wine for me, I think."

The dwarf nodded, passing me my mug and smiling affectionately before leaving to go and retrieve Gandalf's wine. I sipped at my hot beverage between raising it above my head and dodging whomever was coming my way. Quite a tricky sport, but I held my own. I gently laid my drink down on the table and resumed aiding in setting the table.

"Here, lass, pass this down, will you?" Bofur called, claiming my attention.

I looked up and nodded, taking the plates he was offering me and setting them down in their proper places. That's when I noticed Gandalf quietly naming off the dwarves and counting them on his fingers.

"Fili, Kili," he started as they passed him with a wine cask, "Óin, Glóin, Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombar, Nori, Dori… Ori."

As Gandalf finished off his list he regarded the small Bilbo in front of him, wrestling a bowl of tomatoes out of Ori's arms. I quickly jumped out of the dining area to catch the tomatoes as they fell. Popping up again and placing them back where they belonged. I patted Bilbo on the back as he had successfully reclaimed his produce.

That's when Bifur approached Gandalf, grunting in some language I didn't understand, and slapping his arm to make a point.

"Yes, you're quite right Bifur." He nodded, bidding the dwarf a slight goodbye.

"Interesting sort." I chuckled softly, following some of the others into the pantry and helping bring out some more goodies. I'd since given up on trying not to be rude. If the others were being so unruly, then my little contribution wouldn't make poor Bilbo's life any easier.

When I came back out again, Dori was holding up a very small glass or red liquid up for Gandalf. "A little red wine, as requested." He smiled, happy of his efforts. "It's, eh, got a fruity bouquet."

"Ah, cheers!" Gandalf said brightly, taking the glass and downing it in one go.

"Here's the last bit!" Glóin called over the noise. "Take yer seats you filthy lot!"

I chuckled quietly at the dwarf's brashness, squeezing into the small hole and taking a seat against a wall. Kili took one side of me, Nori the other. Once they were all seated, they proceeded to grab whatever was in sight with their bare hands without a care in the world and piling their plates tall with the scrumptious morsels around them. It reminded me a bit of our family dinners back home. I sighed wistfully, missing it, but deciding to ignore the feeling by loading my plate with food.

"Bombar, catch!" Bofur suddenly exclaimed, tossing a boiled egg across the table at his brother, to which he caught in his mouth with astounding accuracy. The other dwarves hooted and cheered, laughing and banging the table like it was the funniest thing ever. And it just might've been, I was hooting and hollering along with them.

Though they started to throw bread across the table at each other, a couple landing on me. I simply threw them back with just as much jovial energy as the rest of them. But the table started to shake, so I peered down at the other end. Fili had climbed on top of the table, the food, and was slowly coming down towards us with full pints in his hands.

"Who wants an ale?" He asked, handing them out, even passing one to me. "There you go!"

I raised my pint to him with a laugh as his brother started swatting him to get him off of the food. Or what was left, Fili seemed to have knocked most of it onto ours laps.

Across the table, Dwalin started to look a bit devious. "Let him have another drink!" He laughed, pouring his pint down Óin's ear trumpet.

I burst out laughing just then. I couldn't help it! My rational side told me that this raucous was more of a nuisance than anything, but I was having a grand old time. And as Oin took out his ear trumpet and blew on the bit that went in his ear, causing ale to bubble out, I laughed that much harder. And the others were laughing with me just as hard.

"This is bloody fantastic!" I said without meaning to, laughing and banging the table as I did.

"On the count of three!" Someone called, and the others all pounded their mugs together.

"One, two!"

And then they all went silent, bringing their tankards to their mouths and downing them all as fast as they could. I decided to join in, chugging on my ale like my life depended on it. All around the sound of drink spilling could be heard, the sloppy dwarves were getting drink in their beards, mustaches, food, getting it on the floor, table, it didn't matter. We were soon done and I let out a bit of a burp, it was fairly loud, and the others laughed. Then Nori let out one a bit louder than mine. And little Ori, at the end of the table, let out the loudest belch of them all, causing his kin to look upon him with glee.

"So, Miss Bronwyn." Kili started once we'd resumed the feast. "Where is it you're from?"

I finished chewing the chicken that was in my mouth and swallowed before I responded. "I'm from across the sea. But I've remained here in Hobbiton for the past few days."

I looked up to find Gandalf eyeing my closely, nodding, seemed he deemed my response to be moderately appropriate.

"Really?" Kili asked, smiling a bit. "What's it like?"

"As you'd imagine." I half-answered. I didn't want to try and keep track of the fictitious details of my fictitious home lest I be caught in a lie. "Quite beautiful, but also quite a bit different from here. We don't really have a need to carry swords or shields anymore."

"What?" Dwalin exclaimed, having caught the last bit of my statement. "Then how do you suppose you're to defend yourselves?"

I shrugged, deciding to tell them some truth. "We don't need to. We're safe. There's nothing out there that wishes us ill. Nothing at all. We are perfectly safe out there."

As you can notice, my dialect has improved greatly. Luckily for me, I had to take a year of Shakespearean literature for my major. I could speak like Juliet for the poor sods and they'd never know the difference!

"What a strange world." Balin chimed in, nodding slightly. "One we'd all surely like to be a part of."

I couldn't help but smile affectionately. "Hopefully I'll make it back there someday. But for now I'm-"

"My dear, would you mind passing down the potatoes?" Gandalf asked suddenly, interrupting me mid-thought with a look that told me that I should keep my big trap shut. It was hard, trying to omit the truth and not seem suspicious. But I still had to try. So I passed the old man his potatoes and the others continued on with their conversations.

"Do you even know how to use a sword?" Kili asked quietly, looking a bit worried.

I chuckled quietly. "No, sadly, I do not. You think I'll have need for one?"

"Gandalf said that you were to join him with us on our quest." He continued, his voice getting softer with each syllable. "If you're incapable of defending yourself, I don't think my uncle will appreciate your company. Or even allow it."

"Hmm." I mumbled, since the man was making a fair point. "This quest of yours, it'll be quite dangerous. That's what you're implying, yes?"

He nodded, grabbing a biscuit. "Very."

I sighed, trying to wrap myself around just what I'd gotten myself into. But I didn't really have a choice. I needed to stay by Gandalf's side because he was the only one who knew my situation, the only one I felt I could trust with my true self. The one who'd get me to shut up when I started to tell too much.

"I'll manage." I whispered, trying to ease him, as well as myself. "The women in my family are quite resilient. My great-grandmother was known from crushing stone in her bare hands. And she learned 50 different ways to smith swords in less than a day. I'm sure I can pick up a bit of sword play as time passes.

Kili gave me the brightest smile. "That's fantastic!"

_What a sweetheart_. I thought, returning his gesture and continuing on with my meal until my plate was practically sparkling. I looked around and the others were finishing just as I was, leading us to start gathering up what remained of the food and putting it back into the pantry. Which was good, didn't want to leave the poor fellow with absolutely _nothing_. Though, it was almost nothing. So I don't know how we should've gone about that.

I began scrapping off everyone's scraps onto Bombar's plate, as I'd been instructed by his brother. The large dwarf was still scarfing down morsels much too large to swallow whole, and yet he managed it. Dwarves really were a force to be reckoned with. I had to keep reminding myself that I was technically one of them. Even if they didn't know it.

All that was left on the table was empty plates, and some silverware that had gone unused for the most part. A couple of empty tankards, and some slop left over from the meal. All in all, quite a delicious meal. If I do say so myself.

"I don't understand what they're doing in my house!" Bilbo squeaked from out in the hallway, looking more exasperated than ever.

"Excuse me." Ori said as he approached the befuddled hobbit. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

"Here you go, Ori, give it to me." Fili instructed as he walked up behind them, taking the plate and tossing it down the hallway and out of my sight. My jaw dropped, but when I didn't hear the sound of ceramic crashing to the ground, my jaw stayed in its position. Those dwarves truly were amazing. I looked behind me and the plate had been tossed to Bifur, who was at the sink getting everything nice and clean.

Fili tossed another plate, ending up just as safe with Bifur as the other had been. Then another plate, and then a bowl!

"Excuse me!" Bilbo practically shrieked. "That's my mother's West Farthing cookery! It's over a hundred years old!"

Kili and Fili didn't listen. They just kept tossing and tossing and tossing. Gandalf, who decided to walk around during this whole ordeal, had to duck mid-toss so as not to get clobbered Bilbo's dishware. Another bowl came to Fili and he simply bounced it off his elbows, I say simply because he made it look easy, before grabbing it and tossing in towards his brother.

Back at the table, Bofur, Glóin, Nori, and Dori were banging their silverware against the wood and stamping their feet at the same time, reaching across the table to scratch at the others knives and forks. _Shink shink!_

"And c-can you not do that?" Bilbo asked, clearly frustrated. "You'll blunt them!"

"Ohhh, d'ya hear that lads?" Bofur asked sarcastically, never ceasing his silverware drumming. "He says we'll blunt the knives!"

_Shink shink!_

"_Blunt the knives, bend the forks!_" Kili began to sing in the other room.

"_Smash the bottles and burn the corks!_" Fili returned, never ceasing the plate tossing.

Then they all chimed in, in a myriad of song.

"_Chip the glasses and crack the plaaaaaaates,_

"_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_"

All the while they sang, the dishes just kept coming, some coming to me to which I expertly caught and tossed to another, surprised by my own dexterity.

"_Cut the cloth and tread on the fat_

"_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat_

"_Pour the milk on the pantry floor_

"_Splash the wine on every door!_"

I don't know how I managed it, but I was singing along with them, meeting every note and every word. Enjoying the song and continuing to bounce bowls and plates off of me into Fili's hands.

"_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl_

"_Pound them up with a thumping pole_

"_When you're finished, if they are whooooole_

"_Send them down the hall to roll!_"

There was a break in the singing and Dwalin and Bofur were playing out the diddy on their instruments. Dwalin with his fiddle, Bofur with his clarinet, and still the two were getting bowls tossed at them, to which they used their elbows. Dwalin even used his head! I simply laughed, watching Fili tumbled every which ways, catching plates from me and tossing them to his brother.

By the time they'd finished cleaning, the music was still going, and with one last shout, they all sang:

"_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_"

We were all in the kitchen, laughing and patting each other on the back, when Bilbo rushed in, probably expecting to see broken dishes and the kitchen a mess. Little did he know, it was anything but. He looked on the clean space, practically in awe, which just made them all laugh harder.

"Look at his face!" Kili cried, pointing his pipe in his direction.

"That was- amazing!" I laughed, still a bit astounded by the whole escapade. And we all continued to laugh until three loud knocks were heard at the door. Then they all fell silent, their merry faces turning worrisome and serious. Gandalf, who was sitting at the small table, looked up and said cryptically,

"He is here."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Dun dun duuuuun! Thorin's big dramatic entrance. Will he let Bronwyn join the company? Who knows! Probably not! But review to tell me what you think, pretty please! I'll love you all forever I swear. But I already love you... oh well! I'll love you <em>more<em>. xoxo, Momma Love**


	6. Chapter V

**An Old Amulet**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

><p><em>Who's here?<em> I wondered, following the others out into the hallway and towards the front door. Bilbo's home was already at capacity as it was, I hoped dearly that our new arrival wasn't anywhere near as wide as Bombar or I wasn't sure that he'd fit. And yet the door was opened and we peered at the man presented in front of us.

"Gandalf." He greeted, looking rather stern with his black hair. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice." He said as he walked over the threshold. "Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

"Mark?" Bilbo questioned as he squeezed into the entryway behind Dwalin. "There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!"

Gandalf seemed to disagree. "There _is _a mark; I put it there myself."

I'll add defacing private property to Gandalf's resume as well.

And still he continued, gesturing to the hobbit. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

"So." Thorin returned, taking a step towards Bilbo while passing his cloak to Kili. "This is the hobbit. Tell me, Mr Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?" He questioned in response, and I probably would've done myself.

Thorin had begun circling poor Bilbo like a vulture examining prey. "Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?"

"You never brought up that I wouldn't have to use a sword." I whispered to Kili when he returned. "I'm perfectly able to swing a hammer, just so I have you know."

His eyes widened at me with a smile, but he quickly returned his attention to Bilbo and Thorin.

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know." Bilbo boasted proudly. "But I fail to see why that's relevant."

Thorin scoffed a bit at the hobbit's response. "Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The rest of the dwarves laughed at Thorin's little quip and then followed him into the dining area where I assumed he'd be eaten up the rest of the food we'd saved. I took that opportunity to consult Gandalf.

"Did he mean a burglar in the sense that we'd be trespassing and stealing?" I asked him quietly.

Gandalf nodded. "He did. Does the word have the same meaning in your tongue?"

"Yes, it does." I returned, my demeanor darkening a bit. "But it's making me wonder if joining your quest is such a grand idea if you're going to be doing something so distasteful as _burglaring_."

The old wizard chuckled a bit at my statement. "They're only retrieving what belongs to them, I assure you."

My face contorted into a frown, but I stayed behind as Gandalf joined the others in the dining hole. I didn't want to rub Mr Thorin the wrong way so I remained with Bilbo, who was pacing the hallway, still mildly distraught from the whole ordeal. Well, I wasn't providing comfort to the man as much as I was listening in on the dwarf's conversation. You can't blame me. I was curious, and hopefully I'd get more of an idea about how this whole expedition would proceed.

As for curious, so was Bilbo.

"What news of the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin asked their leader as he slurped his soup. "Did they all come?"

Thorin nodded and with a ghost of a smile, he said, "Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms."

The rest of the company cheered quietly for the news, to which I didn't really understand myself. I felt that with the talk of kingdoms and swords that I'd been dropped straight into the Middle Ages. Good thing I knew about the whole washing my hands thing so the plague probably wouldn't be coming my way.

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asked, pensive and serious. "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin sighed laboriously, setting down his spoon. "They will not come."

All around, faces became downtrodden with disappointment. Whoever this Dain fellow was, they all expected him to come. Or truly wished that he would. I felt for them, the kind creatures. A truly merry bunch and I didn't want to see them as such.

"They say this quest is ours, and ours alone." Thorin finished dramatically.

And as Thorin moved to take a swig from his tankard, Bilbo piped in. "You're going on a quest?"

Gandalf turned to him. "Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light." And while the hobbit went to retrieve a candle, the wizard continued, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of his sleeve. "Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peek."

The parchment opened to reveal a map, another thing that looked so familiar to me as I peered over Gandalf's shoulder to get a look at it, but I receded quickly, not wanting to get Thorin's attention before I had a chance to be introduced. But Bilbo suddenly reached his candled hand over the map to provide the light he was asked to bring.

"The Lonely Mountain." Bilbo read aloud, taking his time with each word.

"Aye!" Glóin proclaimed from the table, grabbing everyone's attention. "Óin has read the portents, and the portents _say_ it is time!"

Gandalf snapped his fingers and produced a flame yet again to light his pipe. A neat little trick that was distracting me from the actual conversation that was going on.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold." Óin explained, his trusty ear trumpet laying on the table. "_When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end_."

My eyes widened. _Did he say beast? _I pondered, looking to Gandalf who wasn't paying any attention to me in the slightest. _Does he mean beast like the ones that like to eat people? The ones that would very much like our bloody carcasses resting on their backs?_

"Uh," Bilbo started, coming in from the other room, "what beast?"

I silently thanked Bilbo for voicing my questions without me having to ask them.

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible." Bofur declared rather nonchalantly for the tale he was telling. "Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claw like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals—"

"Yes, I know what a dragon is." Bilbo interrupted, looking a bit uneasy.

Not that I was paying attention, I was too busy trying to keep upright without getting sick. I shivered, trying to think of other things, not a _dragon_ plying the meat off my bones. Gandalf peered over his shoulder at me, causing me to calm slightly. I assumed it was some sort of magic, but I could never know for sure with it.

"I'm not afraid! I'm up for it!" Ori yelled confidently as he stood up down at the end of the table. "I'll give him a taste of the Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!"

"Sit down!" Dori commanded, taking his little brother and yanking him back into his seat.

That little outburst made me feel the slightest bit better, knowing that someone so young was so foolishly headstrong and ready for action. Perhaps he was just a tad simple, but he was Ori, and you couldn't help but smile at Ori.

"The task will be difficult enough with an army behind us." Balin stated, looking a bit solemn. "But we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best. Or brightest."

The dwarves got into a bit of an uproar upon that statement, claiming that they weren't daft and asking "Who are you calling dim?", but Óin simply wanted to know what it was he was saying. Perhaps he should've had his trumpet in its upright position.

"We may be few in number," Fili started, making his appearance known, "but we're fighters, all of us! To the last dwarf!"

"And you forget, we have a wizard in our company!" Kili continued off of his brother's momentum. "Gandalf will have killed _hundreds_ of dragons in his time!"

The others concurred, and I felt myself experience a light glimmer of hope.

Until Gandalf had to open his mouth.

"Oh, well, now," he stammered, "uh, I-I-I wouldn't say that, I-"

"How many then?" Dori challenged, peering over at the old wizard.

"Uh, what?" Gandalf continued, just as flustered as before.

"Well, how many dragons have you killed?" Dori pressed, wanted an answer above all else.

Unsure of how to respond, Gandalf merely coughed out a bit of smoke, not bothering to answer at all. And in that exact moment, I knew, 100%. Without a doubt in my mind.

We were doomed.

"Go on!" Dori still pestered on. "Give us a number!"

Dori's tone gave way to a slight uproar on part of the rest of the company, causing them to stand and shout at each other, fists raised and threats being thrown. All trying to guess how many dragons their wizard had slain. Which in fact, was probably none.

"_Shazara!_" Thorin shouted over the crowd, standing to prove a point, and effectively silencing them all and getting them to return to their seats quietly. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" He paused to look at his kin. "Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!"

Everyone cheered for their leader, voicing their agreement with his statement.

"_Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!_" Thorin cried, rallying his men.

"You forget, the front gate is _sealed_." Balin interjected, bringing some reality down upon the dwarves. "There is no way into the mountain."

And yet across from him, Gandalf disagreed. "That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true."

At the last word he spoke, Gandalf produced an ornate key from his sleeve. Quite large, looked to be very important. Much like some of the things I'd seen rummaging through my gran's attic. Of the same design, at least.

Looking to the key in awe, Thorin spoke. "How came you by this?"

"It was given to me by your father," Gandalf explained, "by Thráin, for safekeeping. It is yours now.

The old wizard passed the key onto the dwarf, who looked as if he'd treasure it forever.

"If there is a key," Fili started, "there must be a door!"

I couldn't help but snicker into my sleeve at that. _Of course there's a door, you fool._

Gandalf pointed to some writing scribbled at the edge of the map, writing similar to what was carved into my amulet, impossible for me to read. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls."

"There's another way in." Kili said, wrapping his arm around his brother.

"Well, if we can find it." Gandalf added, giving that all too useful note of reality. "But dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do nothave the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" Ori said excitedly, having realized that fact himself.

Bilbo made a noise in agreement, peering at the map. "A good one, too. An expert I'd imagine."

"And are you?" Glóin asked, a bit doubtful in his tone.

"Am I what?" Bilbo returned after looking behind him, utterly confused.

"He said he's an expert! Hey, hey!" Óin cheered, clearly having heard the hobbit incorrectly.

The others laughed while Bilbo looked as flustered as he did when the dwarves were pillaging his pantry.

"M-me?" Bilbo asked, pointing to himself. "No, no, no, no, no. I-I'm not a burglar, I've never stolen a thing in my life."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr Baggins." Balin concurred, still a bit solemn. "He's hardly burglar material."

Dwalin nodded across the table. "Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves."

I felt that that last comment was directed at both Bilbo and myself. And he was right. All of the others agreed with him, describing in just how many ways someone as dainty as the hobbit could meet their demise. Bifur even went so far as to show that he'd been broken in half. All the while, we took no notice to the growing darkness billowing over us, originating from Gandalf.

"Enough!" He shouted, powerful and fear-inducing. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" Then his voice levelled out, returning to its usual calm nature. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unnoticed by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage."

Sitting back down, he continued.

"You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself."

Thorin didn't look happy with the wizard's choice, but then again, he rarely looked happy. He looked up to Gandalf with scorn.

"You must trust me on this." He assured the dwarf.

Eventually, Thorin replied, "Very well, we will do it your way."

Behind him, Bilbo stuttered, "No, no, no!"

"Give him the contract." The leader instructed Mr Balin.

"Please!" Bilbo pled somewhere in the middle of the others grabble.

Balin stood and handed over what appeared to be the contract. "It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

I swallowed back a lump in my throat. _Funeral arrangements. A common negotiation when discussing a simple contract I suppose!_ I thought dryly to myself.

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo stammered as Thorin pushed the contract onto him. Unfolding it, Bilbo walked out into the hallway where there was a bit more light, reading it over quietly.

"I cannot guarantee his safety." I heard Thorin whisper to Gandalf.

"Understood." The wizard returned, finding that to be perfectly reasonable.

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate." Thorin finished in a perfectly grim tone.

Gandalf looked to him, nodding. "Agreed."

"Terms: Cash on delivery," Bilbo started to read aloud, "up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Ehh, Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to-" he took his time pronouncing: "lacerations… evisceration…" He paused, narrowing his eyes at the parchment. "_Incineration?_"

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye." Bofur added, smiling.

Bilbo looked around, contemplating his situation before giving a small breathless, "Huh."

"You all right, laddie?" Balin asked, probably well aware that he wasn't.

"Uh, yeah." Bilbo said before leaning over his knees, hands braced against them for support, taking shallow breaths and then standing back up again. "Feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace, with wings!" Bofur continued to add, cheery as a plum.

That, of course, wasn't helping the poor hobbit in the slightest. I had half a mind to lob a bowl at the dwarf's head.

"Air- I-I-I need air." Poor Bilbo stammered, bring his hand to his face.

And Bofur wasn't done, not by a longshot. "Flash of light, searing pain, then _poof!_ You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

"Oh give it a rest, Bofur! Can't you see you're doing the exact _opposite_ of good?" I interjected, trying to put a stop to Bofur's ramblings before he gave the poor thing a heart attack. I was doing pretty well myself, mostly because it hadn't really sank in that I would have a good chance of dying by any of those symptoms listed as well. But I don't think Thorin appreciated me speaking out of turn.

Bilbo made some indecisive noises, inhaling, holding that breath for a moment, exhaling, relaxing, and then with a small, "Nope." He went crashing to the ground.

"Oh, very helpful Bofur." Gandalf chastised, standing and moving towards the poor fellow.

I emerged fully from the kitchen to assess the condition of the poor hobbit, when Thorin's arm stopped me in my tracks.

"Are you this hobbit's wife?" He asked, giving me somewhat of a stern look.

I shook my head quickly. "No sir. I'm a guest, just like yourself."

His blue eyes narrowed at me, looking me up and down quickly. "I heard talk that you'll be accompanying us as well."

_Damn. _I thought. _Gossiping dwarves! _"That's the plan. Gandalf wishes me to stay with him for the next few months."

Lord, that man didn't look happy. "We will have a discussion on it later. I do not appreciate the idea of a woman coming along on our journey, but I'll hear the wizard's reasons. And if he sufficiently proves that you will not hinder our quest in any way, I might consider it."

That was a much better reaction than I'd been expecting. Perhaps he truly valued the opinions of Gandalf, perhaps he's wasn't as angry and harsh as he seemed. I doubted the latter to be true. Those blue eyes of his, they were cold. They'd known pain, distrust, betrayal, and would probably do anything to not experience it a second time. Besides, I probably looked about as useful as a wet towel. So perhaps that didn't help my case in the slightest.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Bronwyn'll sit down and have a nice long chat with Thorin and Gandalf next chapter, and some filler, more like. Review please! Review review review! It's right below this! Nice big box! Give me your thoughts and I might shut up! xoxo, Momma Love<strong>


	7. Chapter VI

**An Old Amulet**

**Chapter Six**

* * *

><p>After getting Bilbo somewhere much more comfortable, though he was still out cold for the time being, Gandalf and I sat down with Thorin and discussed what should happen next with concerns to myself. It wouldn't be easy, convincing a man such as him. But Gandalf had confidence, which meant that I probably shouldn't've worried as much as I did. Still, I'm a worrier. He couldn't expect much else from me.<p>

"What is your plan, Gandalf?" Thorin asked when his pipe was lit. "Have this maiden cook our meals and mend our clothes? I cannot think of any other use for her."

_Well that's rude. And sexist._ I thought quietly to myself, but I kept my trap shut. I knew he wasn't a man to cross. Especially if he already thought so low of me.

Gandalf inhaled on his own pipe, eyeing the dwarf. "Just as I told you before in regards to Mr Baggins. There is much more to this young maiden than you or the rest of your company can see. She will be of great use to you during your journey. Of that you can have no doubt."

"Are you a warrior then?" Thorin finally asked me directly, pointing his pipe at me.

I wasn't sure how to answer that, but I did my best. "No, not necessarily. Though I'm quite strong. Stronger than my father. And in my spare time I enjoy forging weapons. I know my way around a hammer and I could mend your weapons, along with your clothes, if you so wished."

And it's true. My uncle is quite the renaissance fair nut and he really likes to have true authentic weapons to show off to his friends. Once upon a time my great-grandfather used to forge the weapons my uncle used, but he's long since passed. And while my gran offered, I decided to add weaponry to my repertoire. For the past several years I go home for a few weeks and I forge everything from swords to axes to war hammers to shields and whatever else you can think of to impress King Arthur. And I truly love it.

"Is that so?" Thorin said quite skeptically. "When did you find time to learn all of that? When you should've been tending to your husband and your children?"

"How old do you think I am?" I asked with only the slightest bit of snark, and with a small laugh.

"Plenty old enough to have your own family." Thorin returned, not phasing in the slightest.

"Where Miss Bronwyn comes from, the traditions are not the same." Gandalf interjected, lest I lash out and slapped the prat. "Women are given the freedom to do whatever they choose. And if they do not want to start a family right away, they have the right to decide that for themselves."

Thorin scoffed quietly, finding that absolutely preposterous. "If you insist, but I still do not much like the idea of having to watch over her if we were to come under attack."

"And you will not have to." Gandalf assured him. "She is under my care, not under that of the company's. She will not be your burden to bear."

I tried not to twitch at the word "burden".

"But won't she be?" Thorin still pressed, not letting the topic drop. "She does not know how to fight, the others will automatically come to her aid if she were to need it!"

Gandalf sighed, tired of the discussion already, as was I. "The moment she proves to be of more harm than good, you have the right to leave her behind. Will that please you?"

Finally, the dwarf seemed to find that outcome to be the most profitable on his part. If I became too much for him, he could simply drop me on my ass without a second thought. Rude, but if that allowed me to come along with them all, I'd accept it. And that was the agreement we came to.

"Welcome to the company, Miss Bronwyn." Thorin said, with a bit of a bow. "We leave at dawn."

I nodded at him, appreciative of the little he'd given. "Thank you, Thorin Oakenshield. I promise to not purposefully hinder your journey in any way."

I hoped he caught my dry tone and took that to mean that we would not be on perfectly amicable terms. Which was probably perfectly acceptable to him. He wasn't a friendly guy, or a talkative one. So we didn't get along, that was perfectly fine.

"Mr Baggins has come to!" Ori exclaimed as he poked his head into the parlor.

Thorin nodded, getting up and heading towards his kin. "Thank you, Ori."

With a pat on the shoulder, Mr Thorin Oakenshield was gone and Gandalf and I had been left to ourselves. To start, I let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

"That went much better than I expected." I breathed, finally relaxing since Thorin arrived.

Gandalf nodded, sucking on his pipe. "That it did. Might I add that you're doing quite wonderfully, my dear. Despite knowing what lies ahead."

I sighed, leaning back and stretching a bit. "It's still like a dream to me. Like it isn't happening."

"Understandable." He offered gently, giving me that kind look of his. "You've been through quite the ordeal. I do not know that anyone here could address your unique situation with as much tact as you have."

"Oh, Gandalf." I laughed a bit. "You're making me blush."

The wizard chuckled quietly as he exhaled some smoke. "While I've enjoyed our little chat, I do believe it's time for me to convince our burglar to join our company."

I nodded, finding that to be most wise. "Won't be any burglaring without a burglar!"

"Quite right." He concurred, standing and moving towards wherever Ori and Thorin went.

That left me perfectly and gloriously alone. I hadn't really had time to settle down, since I arrived in Middle-earth. And while I peered into the hearth, I finally felt perhaps a moment's peace. I propped up my feet and enjoyed the silence.

For about half of a second.

"What did he say?" Someone whispered from behind me. "Are you to join us?"

I groaned a bit, having closed my eyes and ready to take the nap I'd planned for hours ago. "Yes, I am. I'll be cooking your meals for you, and fixing the holes in your trousers should they arise."

"That's fantastic!" They continued, ecstatic and seeming almost like – a puppy.

I opened my eyes and surely enough, it was the young brothers Fili and Kili standing over me. "Why is it you two've taken such a liking to me? I can't recall myself doing anything to deserve such attention."

Fili gave me a smirk. "If we're being honest, you really remind us of our mother, without all of the hair here and not quite as small as her." He said, stroking his face and smiling all the while.

"Even female dwarves have beards?" I asked innocently enough.

"Oh yeah." Kili nodded, still appearing to be quite excited. "If you've ever seen a family of dwarves, it's a bit hard to tell the men from the women. We're about the same size, we've both got beards down to our toes, and we both live in dank dark holes!"

I chuckled quietly. "Is that any way to talk about your mother."

The two laughed, but it was Kili who responded. "It's uncanny, how much you remind us of her. Same quick wit, same spirit, if you were a dwarf then we probably could not see a difference between you!"

"I do what I can, lads." I said easily, smiling up at the brothers. "Now, let your mother rest. She's had a long day."

They let out one more laugh, clapping each other on the back before relocating to the other room and I was finally allowed that peace I knew I so greatly deserved. Closing my eyes, I thought deeply about the few months ahead. The dragon. A large fire-breather that could render towns to ash in mere minutes. I don't know why it didn't unsettle me, didn't force me into a fit, like Mr Baggins.

Perhaps I was more resilient, than the hobbit. I'd never succumbed to any sort of panic in my life, never felt that anything was out of my reach. And while I wasn't particularly gifted, I could still get by in whatever I did. Perhaps that's why when faced with an unexpected journey and the likelihood of certain death, I stood strong.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely registered the song that was being sung in the other room. Minutes of silence, and then the low timber of several men singing a tune that still was able to calm me. Despite the sad story it told. And the lyrics were as such:

_Far over the misty mountains cold  
><em>_To dungeons deep and caverns old  
><em>_We must away, ere break of day,  
><em>_To seek the pale enchanted gold._

_ The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,  
><em>_While hammers fell like ringing bells  
><em>_In places deep, where dark things sleep,  
><em>_In hollow halls beneath the fells._

_ For ancient king and elvish lord  
><em>_There many a gleaming golden hoard  
><em>_They shaped and wrought, and light they caught  
><em>_To hide in gems on hilt of sword._

_ On silver necklaces they strung  
><em>_The flowering stars, on crowns they hung  
><em>_The dragon-fire, in twisted wire  
><em>_They meshed the light of moon and sun._

_ Far over the misty mountains cold  
><em>_To dungeons deep and caverns old  
><em>_We must away, ere break of day,  
><em>_To claim our long-forgotten gold.*_

_ Goblets they carved there for themselves  
><em>_And harps of gold; where no man delves  
><em>_There lay they long, and many a song  
><em>_Was sung unheard by men or elves._

_ The pines were roaring on height,  
><em>_The winds were moaning in the night.  
><em>_The fire was red, it flaming spread;  
><em>_The trees like torches blazed with light.*_

_ The bells were ringing in the dale  
><em>_And men looked up with faces pale;  
><em>_Then dragon's ire more fierce than fire  
><em>_Laid low, their towers and houses frail._

_ The mountain smoked beneath the moon;  
><em>_The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.  
><em>_They fled their hall to dying fall  
><em>_Beneath his feet, beneath the moon._

_ Far over the misty mountains grim  
><em>_The dungeons deep and caverns dim  
><em>_We must away, ere break of day,  
><em>_To win our harps and gold from him._

The song was haunting, and beautiful. I felt a tear fall from my eye, not knowing why the song spoke to me so profoundly. But the dwarves pain, their struggle, they sang it out with every note. They would do anything to reclaim their home, and I felt that even if I was as useless as I appeared, I should do whatever I could to help them take back what was rightfully theirs.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Passages marked with an asterisk are the ones found in the movie. The rest is from the book (along with those passages). I hope you enjoyed the read! I felt like Thorin's resistance to bringing Bronwyn along was sound and reasonable. Thoughts? xoxo, Momma Love<strong>


	8. Chapter VII

**An Old Amulet**

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

><p>I woke the next day to the sound of shuffling. Cracking open my eyes a peek, I noticed that the company was gathering their things, making way to leave. I was used to waking up at the crack of dawn, so I was up like a rocket within seconds. Results of needing to wake up before gran to ensure she didn't go out and burn down the neighbor's barn. Quickly I looked for a pair of shoes, heading down the hall. Upon not finding any in Bilbo's closet, I simply moved towards the entryway, deciding to go without.<p>

"Raise 'n' shine, lass!" Bofur greeted cheerfully, patting me on the back. "Have a good night's rest, did you?"

I nodded, stretching my arms above my head. "Aye. And you?"

"Can't complain." He shrugged, adjusting his hat slightly. "Been sleeping with a rock as a pillow for the past week or so."

Chuckling, I moved to get out of Oin's way as he came in from the room behind me. "Anything would be be'er than that, I suppose."

Bofur smiled as Balin approached us. "Morning, lass. Sleep well?"

"Very." I smiled. "We all getting set to head out I take it?"

"Aye." He agreed, casting his gaze down towards my feet. "You plan on making the trip to Erebor barefoot?"

I chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of my head. "It doesn't seem that Bilbo's got any spare shoes laying around."

Balin nodded, as if realizing something. "'Tis the life of a hobbit. I'm sure one of the lads have some to spare."

I looked down a Balin's boots and then back up at him. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but my feet are wee little things compared to yours and the others. Perhaps it's best that I go without. My soles could use some toughening up."

"Don't be silly, lass." Bofur chuckled beside us. "I'm sure Ori's boots'll fit ya jus' fine."

Ori, having been packing away his things, looked up at us. "My what?"

"Your boots lad, you got a spare, don'tcha?" Bofur asked with a bit of a dry tone.

"Dori made me pack two pairs." He said a bit proud, fishing them out of his bag.

Balin motioned a hand towards me. "The lass seems to be without."

Looking down at my shoeless feet, Ori nodded briskly and handed over an extra pair of boots. They didn't look like they'd be too big on me, so I slipped them on.

"Thank you Ori." I smiled up at the young dwarf. "They're perfect."

He blushed a bit, nodding and rushing off to God knows where. I turned back to Bofur and Balin, a look of confusion on my face.

"Was it something I said?"

Balin chuckled, putting his hand on my shoulder and turning me towards the door. "You're a very pretty lass, young Bronwyn. Ori's young, perhaps the first time he's left home. He's a very difficult time behaving properly around even the most average of maidens. It'll pass, I'm sure."

_Well that's flattering_.

I'd always been told how beautiful I am. I was used to it. But at that point in time, I couldn't really see it as an asset seeing as my looks weren't going to help me learn to battle nor were they going to help me survive. All they'd gotten me in my life was a useless boyfriend that-

Heath. That useless bastard. I wondered what he was doing in that moment. Probably going to class, completely oblivious that I wasn't next to him when he got coffee. I loved the idiot, no matter how idiotic he was. His incapability to notice what was going on around him was part of his charm, though part of what caused him to irritate me the most. In truth, walking out the door of Mr Baggins's home, in that exact moment, I would've taken a thousand Heath's, if I could just go home.

That's when I realized, Bilbo was not with us.

"Is Bilbo not coming?" I asked broadly, to no one in particular.

"I'm afraid not." Dwalin replied, adjusting his cuffs and ensuring his war hammers were secured against his back. "Decided to remain with his books and his _doilies_."

It was saddening, knowing that he wouldn't be joining us. He was a kind fellow, flustered and in way over his head, but gentle and understanding all the same. Someone I would've liked to talk to as we journeyed into the unknown. Adventure was a new thing for both of us, it would've been nice if I had someone to struggle along with me.

"Perhaps he will still join us." Gandalf said optimistically. "I have all the faith in the world in our hobbit."

"A misplaced faith." Thorin decided to add, returning the air to that of something unpleasant.

The wizard scowled a bit at the dwarf's leader, disliking his knack for unhappy thoughts as much as I did. "Still, we shall venture on. Whether he accompanies us or not."

Kili approached me then, leading a pony by its reins. "A mount, for the lady."

I offered him the kindest smile I could muster that morning. "Thank you, Kili. Give me a lift up?"

"Certainly!" He beamed, grabbing me by the waist suddenly and lifting me into the saddle.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I meant give me a hand, silly. But thank you again, all the same."

He gave me a smile in return, turning to his own pony and climbing on top of it. The others followed suit, clamoring aboard their ponies and securing their supplies. Gandalf alone was atop a full grown horse, beautiful and large, strong. Capable of crushing me underfoot. The thought caused a shiver down my spine. And then it occurred to me, if a horse was frightening me so, then how was I to act when I came face to a large dragon that wanted my death above all else.

I was going to be useless for sure.

"We press on!" Thorin shouted back at his company, kicking his stead into motion, taking the lead and heading down the hill.

My pony followed after them, without needing direction from its inept rider. Solemnly I looked back to the door from whence we'd come, wishing dearly that at any moment, Bilbo would come bursting out, running after us in hopes of adventure and riches. But he didn't come. His door didn't open. And as we disappeared into the forest, I felt all hope was lost.

"Wait! _Wait!_"

I hate to admit it, but the mere sound of the small hobbit's voice caused the biggest smile to break out across my face.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Two chapters one day! Perhaps to make up for the fact that there won't be one tomorrow. Who knows! I might get lucky and squeeze something out! Read and review please, reviews make me happy and I haven't gotten many! It would mean the world to me, I promise you! xoxo, Momma Love<strong>


End file.
